


I Am Jack’s Loss of Direction

by eightbitbat



Series: Anywhere I lay my head [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eightbitbat/pseuds/eightbitbat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dean, are you trying to get me drunk to make me talk?”</p><p>Dean arched an eyebrow at him and raised his own glass to take a drink.  He ignored Castiel’s question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Jack’s Loss of Direction

Grace stolen, check.  Cast out of Heaven, check.  Found his way to Dean, check.  Shower, food, sleep, check check check.  Castiel didn’t quite know what to make of his newly-human checklist.

After the great sixteen hours of sleep, Castiel sat on the end of the couch and waited for Dean to make popcorn.  The living room in the Men of Letters bunker was clearly decorated during the time of the secret society, but Castiel thought the comfortable couches and chairs were additions by Sam and Dean.  The large flat-screen television and its accessories clearly were.

Dean came in, settling onto the couch next to Castiel, and cued up the first movie.  As promised, they started with _Sleeping Beauty_ , though Dean rolled his eyes through the whole thing.  Next up was _Fight Club_ (“Gotta balance out that Disney shit with some classic violence”).  After that they started _The Fellowship of the Ring_ , but Castiel felt his head drooping once they reached Rivendell. 

He didn’t think he’d been asleep for long when Dean nudged him.  Castiel’s head had dropped down to Dean’s shoulder.  “Okay, I don’t think you were done sleeping off all the excitement yet,” Dean said, and wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him off the couch.  Dean walked Castiel back to Dean’s bedroom and helped him back into his bed, and he was solidly asleep within a few moments.

 Castiel lost count of the days that followed, which were all roughly the same.  He spent most of the time asleep.  When he woke, he took hot showers and watched movies.  Sometimes Dean was there, sometimes he wasn’t.  Castiel didn’t have much of an appetite, but was capable of scrounging in the kitchen when he was; Dean was keeping it reasonably well-stocked.  Dean had also shown him how to log into Netflix on their TV setup to watch movies.  Castiel worked his way through _Star Wars_ , Quentin Tarantino, Stanley Kubrick, Disney.   Dean watched with him, if he was around.  He spent a lot of time at the hospital, where they were still trying to get Sam better, or out on local hunts, as long as they didn’t take him away for too long.

Dean never did clean out another room for Castiel, so Castiel kept sleeping in Dean’s bed.  Castiel was capable of setting up a room for himself, he supposed, but he didn’t seem to have the energy.  Dean’s room was there, and empty, so what did it really matter?  If Dean was home and Castiel was awake, sometimes Dean would catch a few hours of sleep in his room, but he didn’t say anything about Castiel continuing to use it, either.

One night Castiel woke to find Dean in the room, asleep in the chair by the wall.  Castiel rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and crawled out of bed, crossing the room to the sleeping man.  He pulled Dean’s arm over his shoulder and hauled him up, walking him over and depositing him into the still-warm bed.  Dean mumbled at him but Castiel hushed him, pulling the blankets up over him and leaving him to sleep.

Castiel left the room and ran into Kevin in the hallway.  Kevin gave him a startled look.  “What were you doing in Dean’s bedroom?”

“I was sleeping.”  He followed Kevin’s glance over his shoulder, through the open door to where Dean was asleep.

“Oh.” Kevin’s eyebrows shot up.  “Oh!”

“Oh?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s…uh…cool.”  

Kevin seemed flustered, but Castiel wasn’t great at reading the boy.  He wasn’t sure what Kevin would be flustered about. They hadn’t spoken much since he’d been there; he suspected the prophet was still unhappy over the way Castiel had manhandled him in regards to the angel tablet.  He closed the door to Dean’s room behind him and they walked down the hall to the living areas of the bunker. 

“So, Cas, I’m going to take off with Charlie for a few days.  Would you let Sam and Dean know?”

“Who’s Charlie?”

“She’s a friend of theirs.  She’s sort of a hunter in training.  Charlie scored us some tickets to a comic convention, and I really need to get out of here for a little while.”

“I’ll tell them.  Will you be safe?”

Kevin rolled his eyes.  “Yes, I’ll be safe.  Like you care.  She’s in the other room; ask her yourself if you want.”  He headed into the kitchen while Castiel continued into the living room.  There was a small woman with long red hair sitting on the couch with her back to him, flipping through their Netflix queue. 

She spoke without looking up.  “Great list you have going, but if this is your unwatched list, dude, where have you been for the last twenty years?  Also, you should totally watch _Donnie Darko_ next.  _Blade Runner_?  Who hasn’t seen _Blade Runner_?”

“I haven’t.”

Charlie jumped about a foot at the sound of his voice.  She bounced off the couch and spun around, holding the remote out in front of her like she was going to throw it at him.  “Oh my god, I thought you were Dean.  Wait--who are you?” 

“Castiel.”

“ _You’re_ Castiel?  Oh my god.  I mean…oh my god.  Hi.  I’m Charlie.”  She stammered a bit more and blushed, and they just looked at each other for a long moment.  “Man, Chuck wasn’t kidding with the staring,” she muttered. “I can’t wait to see what it’s like with Dean…”

“You knew Chuck?”

Charlie shrugged.  “Knew of him, really.  I read his books.”

“Ah,” he replied, moving around the room to sit on the couch.  She handed him the remote and he started scrolling through the movie list.  “You know what I was, then?”

She looked confused.  “What you were?”

“An angel.”

“Oh, that…yeah, Sam told me what happened.  I’m sorry.”

It was Castiel’s turn to shrug.  He couldn’t seem to summon up the energy to care, especially with a stranger.  “I’d rather not discuss it.  So, _Donnie Darko_?”

Charlie actually looked relieved, as if the conversation had shifted back into familiar territory.  She joined him on the couch and went through the movie list with him, once she figured out it was Dean trying to catch him up on pop culture and “all things awesome”.  She grabbed a pen and noted down a list of a dozen movies that Dean hadn’t even mentioned, as well as a list of television shows.  “These are all epic, but I’d start with _Buffy_ for sure.”

“Thanks Charlie.”

By that time, Kevin was ready to leave.  Charlie surprised Castiel (and from the looks of it, Kevin) by giving him a quick hug before they left.  He heard the two chatting in low voices as they headed towards the door to the bunker, with the last thing from Charlie being a high-pitched squeal followed with “OH MY GOD, I knew it!”  The door closed after that, so he didn’t know what she knew.  If it was important, he was sure he’d hear from Dean.

Castiel made his way through a few more movies as the afternoon turned to evening.  As he was nearing the end of the first Harry Potter movie, Dean emerged from his room and started wandering about.  Castiel heard him move into the kitchen, and the clink of bottles.  Dean came into the living room and threw himself down on the couch and settled into his usual position, in the middle with Castiel to his right, feet on the coffee table.  He twisted the cap off a beer bottle and handed it to Castiel. 

Neither spoke until the credits rolled, and then Dean looked around absently.  “It’s quiet.  Where’s the kid?”

Castiel remembered he was supposed to pass on Kevin’s message.  “Kevin went with Charlie to something called a comic convention.  She said they’d be back in a few days.”

“Charlie?  Charlie was here?”

“Yes, Dean.  She picked up Kevin and gave me a list of movies to watch.” 

Dean pondered that for a moment as he finished off his beer.  “Yeah, about that.  While I think it’s awesome that you’re here, all you’ve done is sleep and watch movies for what, a week now?  Two?  How are you feeling?”

Castiel didn’t look at Dean.  He idly picked at the label on his beer bottle with a thumbnail.  “I’m fine, Dean.”

“Fine?  You know me, I’m the last person that wants to talk feelings, but it seems to me that ‘fine’ isn’t the kind of word to cover what’s been going on.”

He took a swallow of his beer.  He didn’t particularly like beer; he just drank it because Dean gave it to him.  “I’m fine.  I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean sighed and took the beer from him, getting up and setting their bottles on a nearby table.  Castiel stared at his hands, wondering if he should put on the next movie.  After a moment, Dean sat back down next to him, two glasses of whiskey in hand.  He handed one to Castiel, who took a swallow of the amber liquid, feeling it burn as it went down his throat.  He didn’t really like whiskey, either.

“Cas, man, I can tell something is up.  You don’t want to talk about it, okay, but what can we _do_ about it?  Do you want to come hunt?  Should we follow Charlie to that convention?”

Castiel took another swallow of his whiskey, already feeling the warmth spreading through him.  He hadn’t tested his tolerance to alcohol since becoming human; before tonight he’d just had the occasional beer from Dean.  “No, I’m fine here.  I just need to…”  He could feel Dean studying him. 

“Need to what?”

“I don’t know.”  He swallowed the last of his drink, grimacing at the strength of it.  “I just don’t see the point of doing much else.”  Dean took his glass and replaced it with his own, then got up and refilled the empty one.  He came back and perched sideways on the couch so he was facing Castiel, arm resting along the back, eyes on him.  “Dean, are you trying to get me drunk to make me talk?”

Dean arched an eyebrow at him and raised his own glass to take a drink.  He ignored Castiel’s question.  “The point?  What does that mean?”

“Dean…”  Castiel shook his head and took another drink.  His face was going numb.  He really didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to even think about it, but the alcohol was loosening him up.  He pulled his legs up underneath him and twisted so he was facing Dean.  “I don’t see the point in anything, really.  What am I even doing here?”

Dean frowned at him.  “Cas, what you went through was rough, I’m not denying that at all, but we’ll-“

“We’ll what?  Fix it?  That’s all I’ve ever tried to do.  It seems like every step I’ve taken to help Heaven just makes things worse.  Right now, things are bad in ways we’ve never seen before and I’m sitting here, human, useless, and now drunk.  So, again, what’s the point?”

Castiel could see the emotions flickering across Dean’s face, sadness warring with the Dean Winchester brand of tough encouragement.  “Cas, you’re not useless, and things are never so screwed up that we can’t find a way around them.  Hell, look at all we’ve made it through so far.”

Castiel drained the rest of the second glass.  “As an angel.  Not as a human. Who am I, even?  I’m not Castiel anymore, not an angel of the Lord.  When you take that away, what’s left?”  He looked away from Dean, looked at the hand that fiddled with the worn hem of his t-shirt. 

Dean leaned down until he caught Castiel’s eye again.  “Hey, you’ll figure that out.  We’ll figure it out together.”  His lips quirked upwards. “That’s one of the good parts about this whole deal.  You get to decide that without having to answer to anyone else.  No winged dicks to tell you what to do.”  His voice softened.  “Cas, you’re here, that’s all that matters.  We’ll get through this.”

They looked at each other, the silence stretching out between them.   “Dean,” he said finally, “I don’t know if I can.” 

Dean’s brows knit together in concern, and he moved his hand from the back of the couch down onto Castiel’s shoulder, fingertips just touching the back of his neck.  Castiel felt warmth spreading through him, one he didn’t think had anything to do with the whiskey.  “Cas…”

“Dean, you once said you needed me.  Why?  What could you possibly need me for?  Especially like this.”

Dean always spoke better in actions than in words.  His fingers moved further around the back of Castiel’s neck, the pressure on his skin increasing as Dean tugged him forward.  Castiel didn’t have time to do more than raise his eyebrows before Dean pressed their lips together.

He didn’t quite know what to do.  Dean’s lips felt tentative against his, until Castiel exhaled and let himself follow Dean’s lead.  Once Dean felt him relax, the hand on the back of his neck curled up into his hair, while his other hand absently took their glasses and put them aside.  Castiel felt awkward and inexperienced, but that was lost in the hot press of Dean’s mouth, the feel of Dean’s warm breath on his cheek.  The urge to touch Dean was overwhelming, and he reached forward and fisted his hands in Dean’s shirt.

Long moments passed with nothing but the feel of Dean under Castiel’s hands, the taste of him in his mouth.  They broke apart, both gasping for air.  Against his temple, Dean whispered, “This, Cas.  I don’t need Heaven, or angels, I just need you.  I need _you_.” 

He leaned back just far enough to look Dean in the eye.  Something within him unfroze with the urgency he felt coming from Dean.  It was like a weight lifting off him, or things shifting into their correct alignment.  He raised a hand from Dean’s shirt and traced a thumb over his cheekbone.  Their foreheads pressed together, his breath ghosted over Dean’s lips, Castiel whispered, “ _It’s a start._ ”


End file.
